"Going away—from Pont Aven?"
Tollemache's voice executed a crescendo of dismay; but Ingersoll only laughed, and, for the first time since that disastrous reef was left behind, his manner reverted to its normal air of good-humored cynicism.
"Why select two words from a sentence and invest them with a significance they don't possess? I put in a saving clause. A week, or even two, can hardly be twisted into a lifetime."
"Does Yvonne know?"
"No. I have decided on the journey only within the last ten minutes. We're taking a little trip to Paris solely to avoid the gush and sentiment that will flow in Pont Aven during the next few days like a river in flood. Moreover, Lorry, if you're wise, you'll come with us."
Tollemache little realized how truly spontaneous was his friend's invitation. "D'ye mean that, Ingersoll?" he said elatedly.
"Why not? Don't let any question of expense stop you. This outing will be my Christmas treat."
"Expense! Dash it all! I've money to burn. Er—that is—enough, at any rate, to afford a jaunt to Paris. When do we start?"
"Soon after seven o'clock."
"By jing! Sharp work."